The Death of Guthmug
UDUN: BEFORE THE MORANNON
A thin bit of light filters down through the mass of smoke and haze issuing from Mt. Doom. The sun has risen, but the day remains dark.
Lugoth spots Guthmug in the throng and strides towards him, grim determination mixed with a raging fire evident in his eyes. He stop before the Tek'Rak and says, "I wnat to have a few words with you !"
Glurg'erg strolls out of his tent, a broad smile on his face. The scimitar at his side gleams as if new, and his helm is freshly polished. He scans the camp quietly, looking for any lazy Snaga, or fighting Dog's to deal with.
Guthmug stands beside a small cooking fire near the center of the camp, several snaga are gathered around him as he inspects the meat sizzling over the flames on make-shift spits. Lifting his head, his gaze falls on Lugoth, and he immediately raises his arm to salute the Teguk. "What is it, Teguk?" He asks, his tone betraying alarm.
Melchior's head lashes around violently, black hair flailing from side to side. His giggles never seem to cease, a wide grin on his face.
Lugoth*s eyes narrow and the fevered light in his eyes seems brighter. He supresses a shudder, almost as if he was on his way to look behind him, then closes in on the Tek'Rak and with a flick of his wrist produces his scimitar, the Gimb-Hosh, the last vestige of the Ashjaki tribe. With a quick motion he aims a cutting slash at Guthmug's purse, jangling at his hip, wanting to cut it open.
Melchior cackles maniacally! "
Glurg'erg's eyes widen as he sees an Uruk slashing out at another, and starts to open his mouth to shout angrily at them, before ne notices who they are. A small frown takes place of his large grin, and he walks towards the Teguk and the Tek'rak casually, pulling his Scimitar slowly from his sccabard.
Glurg'erg reaches to his belt and pulls out a Black Scimitar. The Razor sharp edge glimers faintly in the light and Glurg'erg's eyes glitter with the thought of using the weapon.
Guthmug's eyes widen in fear as Lugoth reaches for the scimitar, he instinctively steps back, but not far enough to avoid the other's blade. He flinches as the blade cuts through the leather of his purse and makes a shallow gash in his leg. A torrent of coins fall from the Tek'Rak's pouch, gold and silver sparkling in the light of the nearby fire.
Melchior shakes violently against his restraints, trying to crawl away from where he was placed...
Lugoth lets out a harsh shout, almost of joy as he sees the quantity of Gold in the purse. he then extends his arm, pointing the scimitar at the Tek'Rak, growling, "How much money do the Army pay you, Tek'Rak ?" His voice is dead calm, but his body seems to shiver slightly, as if extremely agitated.
The small crowd of snaga forming around the two officers remains silent for a split second, as the many pairs of eyes focus on the falling coins. Almost simultaneously, the snaga dive towards the coins, clawing and slashing at each other for a chance at the Tek'Rak's money.
Lugoth ignores the Snaga scrabbling for money, his eyes only on the face of the other Uruk.
Melchior says, "Filthy uruks! Untie me! Untie me, I say!"
Glurg'erg let's out a roar of anger as the Snaga's all surge around him, and his Scimitar flashes wildly, small spurts of blood pooring from the Snaga. He bares his fangs, and growls from the depths of his throat.
Guthmug steps cautiously away from the Teguk once more, his gaze locked onto his superior's eyes. His brow furrows in anger for a split-second before he manages to calm himself. "The army pays me what I deserve, Teguk. No more." He replies simply.
Grishnakh, muttering quietly to officers near the Carchost and the place of Melchior's chains, does not yet notice the confrontation in camp.
Lugoth barks harhsly, "I know what your pay is, Tek'Rak ! I'm the one paying you, remember ! And that
Grishnakh sends the officers off, then ambles slowly toward the bloody human captive, regading him with pale eyes and a twisted, hideous smile.
Glurg'erg swings his scimitar at the last fleeing snaga, puffing slightly, sucking in air. Almost all the gold is gone from the ground, only a few coppers left. Blood stains the road, wounds caused by Glurg'erg's flashing sword, and snaga alike. He shakes his head to himself as he steps up next to Guthmug, holding his scimitar at his side, as he peers at Lugoth.
Guthmug's face remains expressionless but for the barely visible clenching and unclenching of his jaw. He raises his left hand to scratch at the side of his chin as he replies, his voice nearly steady, "Much of that money I have taken from battle, Teguk."
Lugoth shakes with rage now, "LIAR !", he shouts, "I know where you got it ! You're a treacherous worm like the others, and I'll make you pay ! Take that Lugburz gold with you to the Death God if you can ! I won't have you scheming behind my back any longer !" He then lunges out with his scimitar, the blade makes a smooth curve as it aims for the other's neck.
Glurg'erg nods his head slightly as he thinks he figures out what the conversation is about, and all the scrambling snaga. He opens his mouth, not carring the Teguk had not addressed him yet. " And I be giving the Tek'rak some money when.. Ah.. Other ceratin groups be functioning, for he do jobs fer me... Fetch me ale and suff like dat... "
The Gund-Uruks step towrds the fight emerging, shoving Snaga out of the way. Their leader directs his gaze at Glurg'erg, all of them flashing scimitars, "The Teguk and the Tek'Rak won't be disturbed !", he says to Glurg'erg, "...Tek'Rak", he adds with a alight, not too respectful bow.
Glurg'erg let's out a loud " Ack!!" before he jumps backwards away from Lugoth, his Scimitar imediatly in front of his body. His eyes narrow, and his fangs show as his lips curl in a snarl. Glancing around him, and idea springs into his head, and he leaps back once more, turning his head to look towards the VOrazg. "He glance sback at Lugoth, and shakes his head to himself, turning to sprint as fast as he can towards Grishnakh, his short legs thumping against the ground.
Guthmug flinches at Lugoth's shouted accusations, his right hand instinctively dropping to grip the axe at his side. Cursing under his breath, he drops to a half crouch and darts away from the Teguk, whose blade passes barely an inch above his head as he ducks. Darting away from Lugoth, he desperately scrambles to pull out the long-hafted axe from the loop at his belt.
Lugoth ,failing the first attempt to skewer Guthmug's head from his body, charges again, raising his scimitar with a speed not matched by many. Feinting quickly to the right he changes his direction in a split-second and aims a hefty blow for the Tek'Rak's right side of hsi neck, not bothering about the fact that the other doesn't have his weapon out yet.
Grishnakh squats near the human for a time, but the man seems to have passed into a daze. Finally, the big orc rises again, and turns in time to notice Glurg'erg running toward him.
The sprinting Uruk is about twenty feet away from Grishnakh when his foot snags on a large rock. His feet are sweped out from under him, his speed carrieng him a heft distance in the air, limbs flailing. He lands in a heap in the dust, skidding accross the ground to slam into a large Snaga. The snaga, sharpening his Knife, is knocked to the side, his knife falling from his hands into a nearby Uruk's leg.
Guthmug sidesteps swiftly to the left, his right arm managing to slide the axe out it's loop and raise it defensively before him. The Teguk's feint takes him by surprise, his eyes widen in shock as his opponent's blade slices towards his neck. Having no time to move away, he raises his axe to parry the blow, but the scimitar's sharp metal catches him just above the right elbow. With a loud cry of pain, the Tek'Rak drops the axe and hops backwards, away from the Teguk.
Grishnakh calmly watches Glurg'erg's travails, folding his arms and waiting for the other orc to collect himself enough to report.
Lugoth grins savagely as the other drops his weapon and he quickly kicks it to the side as he closes in on Guthmug. He snarls, "You see where taking Gold from BP rabble leads you ? You were a GOOD lieutenant, but now you die as all traitors deserve !" The feverish light in his eyes that's been witnessed by all the past few weeks shine brightly now.
The Uruk cries out in pain is the knife sinks into his Leg, and he imediatly reaches his fist back, grabs a rock, and swings it full force at the still stunned Snaga. The rock crashes into the Snaga's ribs, a loud yelp of pain coming from his lips. Glurg'erg stands up, brushing himself off as the two snaga's start to brawl. His gaze turns to Grishnakh and back to the Snagas, and he stumbles towards Grishnakh, pointing viscously towards Guthmug and Lugoth, trying to bring attention to them so his Tek'rak spy will not be killed.
Three other Snagas see the two fighting, and their eyes widen at the chance of loot if one should be killed. They jump to the occasion, two wielding daggers, and one using a jagged piece of metal as a knife, they start beating on each other, yips and growl coming from the pile of Uruk.
Grishnakh's gaze follows Glurg'erg's gestures, and he looks at the confrontation between
Guthmug and Lugoth for a moment. Then he looks back at Glurg'erg, seeming unconcerned. "What is it, Tek'rak?"
Glurg'erg opens his eyes at the unconcerned tone of the Vorazg, and his eyes narrow in thought. The quickest lie springs to his mind, and he blurts out, "Da Teguk be talking about Ashjaki and Ujaks! He be talking of tribes dat you outlaw, Master Vorazg! Dat be bad ting!"
Grihsh glares at the Snaga's fighting, though does nothing. He continues to sit on a pile of bones, polishing his jagged scimitar. He grumbles softly, and holds it up, making sure the opaque surface gleams.
Grishnakh narrows his eyes as he listens to Glurg'erg. Then he nods briefly. "Very well, lieutenant. Let's go see what they have to say."
As other Uruks see the brawling Snagas, a large riot starts to form, the camp of Snaga's furiously beating on each other with any kind of weapon they can find. Few Uruk officers wade through fighting masses, trying to bring the mob down to it's normal quietness.
Glurg'erg nods quickly, and starts to walk quickly towards Lugoth, knowing at any moment Guthmug could get a Snaga dagger in the back, or the Teguk's sword through his throat.
Guthmug's teeth clench tightly from the pain of his broken and slashed arm, his eyes shift around nervously, desperately seeking escape. He steps slowly away from the Teguk, the black blood from his wound dripping down his arm and falling slowly to the the ground in large drops. He remains silent, only watching the other officer warily as he steps slowly away.
Grihsh snarls as the riot builds, and wades into the fray, grabbing snaga's by the neck, and hurling them back. He slashes at those who try to get violent with him, the razor-sharp blade slicing those who get too close. One snaga stabs at his arm, and it sinks deep into the flesh. He roars with pain and anger, impaling the snaga's stomach on the blade. He tries to make it towards Guthmug, but the masses of angry orcs prevent it.
Lugoth hahs, "You ain't got the guts to defend yourself ? Proof enough that I'm right !", he shouts, them launches into an all-out attack at the other, wounded Uruk and hefts his blade high over his head to fall down upon the head of the Tek'Rak with enough force to drive through metal, the insane light in Lugoth's eyes shines with delight.
Grishnakh turns to the growing disturbance near him with a cold glare. "Calm them," he orders Grihsh and any other warrior nearby, as he continues to stalk toward Guthmug and Lugoth.
Grihsh roars as loud as he can above the rabble, his dripping blade a shadow in the dim light. "Any SNAGA who CONTINUE FRAY DIE BY BLADE!"
ALl the snagas ignore Grihsh, continueing to fight amongst themselves. A particularly large Snaga pops up in front of Grihsh, growling under his breath. " You want to fight, Maggot Dog? You think you can kill me? Go ahead and try." From behind his back, the Snaga pulls a gleaming Scimitar that he must have gotten off the body of a dead officer, his eyes narrow.
Grihsh throws one particularly small snaga at least ten feet away, its flight halted only by the wagon. He continue wading through the masses of orcs, slashing at any in his way. He stops at the other snaga, growling deeply. He twirls his blade in his right hand, and aims a blow towards the snaga's sword arm.
The snaga dodges to the side, His scimitar flashing accross his body to block the blow of the Dog. He springs forward, trying to slam his shoulder into the large Uruk's stomach.
Guthmug scrambles bacwards, stumbling over a small rock and landing sprawled on his back over the rough ground. His eyes widen as the hulking figure of Lugoth blocks the dim light of the sky above. He raises his already wounded arm in a futile and desperate attempt to stop the Teguk's blade, his left arm suddenly appearing beside him, a small knife in his hand. The razor-sharp blade cuts easily through the already-broken bone in his arm, and continues on to strike the Tek'Rak's helmeted head. With the sharp sound of metal piercing metal, the blade splits Guthmug's head in two, down to the base of his neck. The dagger wielding hand falls limply to the ground beside him, as the black blood from his body begins to form a dark puddle on the ground below him.
Grishnakh snarls and turns before he reaches the Dol Guldur orcs, as he hears the violence only grow behind him.
Grihsh is hit squarely by the blow, but holds his ground. He raises his scimitar over his head, and hacks downward at the snaga shoved against his stomach.
Grishnakh lurches angrily toward the fighting orcs, and his normally-soft voice suddenly bellows out in terrible rage. "ENOUGH! Step down, ALL of you, or I will kill you MYSELF!"
Grihsh continues to aid Grishnakh is quelling the violence, attempting to kill a particularly insubordinate snaga.
Lugoth jerks his scimitar from the split head of Guthmug, grey and black matter soiling the blade. He wipes it off on the tunic of the Tek'Rak, then spits upon the body. Then he turns to the mass of Snaga waiting to loot the body, snarling, "No-one touches his equipment ! It belongs to the Ashj....", he then catches himeslf as he hears the Vorazg's bark and says instead, "...to the Eye's army." With the fevered cast to his eyes, no-one approaches. He turns towards the VOrazg, pantning slightly as he resheats his scimitar.
All the Snaga stop Abruptly, except for Grihsh, whose blade is coming down to strike the Snaga. The lade takes him through the base of his neck, and he falls to the ground, a gurgle of blood coming from his mouth.
Glurg'erg lets out a howl of rage as Lugoth splits Guthmug's head, and starts to run towards the Teguk, his eyes like frozen daggers.
Grishnakh pants as if short of breath, and his eyes continue to glare across the crowd of orcs, consumed with rage. Only slowly does his massive claw stop twitching near the hilt of his sword. "Now, then," he says in a tightly-controlled growl, "return to your duties. The next brawl like this that I see will end in the deaths of every orc involved. Go!"
Grihsh leans down, severing the head of the insubordinate snaga with one quick, jerking-motion of his blade. He grabs the severed head by its now-loose scalp, and moves over Grishnakh. When he reaches him, he holds it up, saluting with his other arm. "Here is the head of one of the insubordinates, Vorazg Grishnakh."
Grihsh grins slightly. "You want head to remind others of fight?"
Lugoth straightens as Gulrg'erg approaches. He eyes the Tek'Rak with cold contempt as he mutters, "Now what will you do, yellow dung-heap ?", more to himself than to any others. A strange leer plays around his lips.
Grishnakh snarls softly toward Grihsh, his anger not yet expended, and returns his attention toward the Guldur-orcs without another word to the Dog.
Lugoth motions to the Gund-Uruks and they quickly strip Guthmug of his armour and clothes. The now empty purse they toss at Lugoth's feet. Slowly they drag the corpse towards the Wagon of theirs, leaving a trail of blood and brain-matter.
Grihsh shrugs slightly, and removes the eyes from the head with his pudgy fingers. He looks them over for several seconds, blinks twice, and shoves them in his mouth, chewing rapidly for several moments before swallowing. He then throws the eyeless head at a mass of snaga, smacking one in the chest. Grihsh snickers softly, and glances about.
Grishnakh approaches Lugoth quickly, the dark look on his face betraying a foul temper. He glances at the orcs dragging Guthmug's corpse away, then at the Captain of Dol Guldur. "Lugoth," he growls, "report."
Lugoth nods curtly as the Vorazg speak. The fevered light still shines in his eyes, and a trickle of salive stains his cheek. His words come out harshly, "I've just killed a traitor to the Eye, Vorazg. Apart from that it seems the camp is quiet and awaiting orders to move out, Vorazg." He stands straight in front of his superiors, yet his eyes still flicker amongst the Uruks present, as if searching for others showing signs of treason.
Grishnakh stares at Lugoth incredulously for a moment. "You killed a traitor, eh? I heard that the fight started because you were violating my Decree and speaking of the Tribes. Is that a lie?"
Lugoth raises an eyebrow quizzically, then stares at the back of Glurg'erg, who's busy sorting out the Snaga and Dogs brawling. "Aye. A lie, indeed. A lie put out by the very one responsible for my lieutenant's treason. I spoke no word of tribes, only accused him of treason. His actions and his purse gave me proof." Lugoth's jaws clench tightly as he speaks of treachery.
Grishnakh narrows his eyes. "What treason?"
Lugoth snarls, "The past weeks several of my Ash... My soldiers have been killed in the night. Many of these had reported to me that an officer of the Burz... of Lugburz had offered them Gold to kill me. And soon after they had told me that, they died myeteriously. One of them, Gorbak, also told me that very officer had also been seen talking to Guthmug, giving him pouches that jingled." He chuckles, an eerie sound, "And soon after Gorbak died, too."
Grishnakh hears every near-mention of the Tribes, and his gaze grows colder with each one. "So, let's be straightforward. You think Glurg'erg has tried to hire orcs to kill you? And you have done nothing about it, reported nothing about it, except to challenge and kill your lieutenant?"
Grihsh seems unconcerned with the arguing, and contentedly watches the snaga deal with the headless, bloody corpse. He wipes off the black blood from his blade, and hooks it into his belt.
Lugoth smiles evilly, "I spoke of it to you back in Dushgob, Vorazg. You said you would speak with him. I reckoned that would put an ened to his schemings." He shakes his head angrily, "It hasn't. Guthmug has been acting strangely lately, peeking at me whenever he thought I wasn't looking. I figured it would only be a matter of time before he plunged that dagger in my back
Grishnakh nods thoughtfully. "Interesting. Very well." He looks around at the camp as it slowly is brought into order. "For now, we'll begin the march. When we stop for the first camp, I will expect you and Glurge'rg both to report to me. Then we'll sort this business out... once and for all."
Lugoth nods slowly, "Aye, Vorazg. Once and for all"; he growls. he then salutes the Tek'Rak and steps back from the other. "On your order, we'll march !" his eyes still flicker to and fro the other Uruks around.
Grishnakh nods crisply. "I will open the Gates. You may lead the troops."
Lugoth nods curtly, then moves away from the Vorazg. His mouth open and he growls ot the officers gathered, "Send runners ! Everybody shall be ready to march in ten !" The officers quickly disperse and soon the word spreads throughout the camp. The packing that's already going on intensifies and soon the army is ready to set out on their march again.
Grishnakh turns and marches purposefully toward the gates, the great black standard of Mordor following him, borne by the Black Guard. Above the gates, guards watch carefully, coming to a semblance of attention as their Commander approaches.
Lugoth takes his place behind the Vorazg's standard. he then turns and surveys the troops gathering for the march.